


Bedright

by afterandalasia



Category: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: disney_kink, Exhibitionism, F/F, Loss of Virginity, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Public Consummation, Size Kink, Stomach Bulging, Strap-Ons, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 11:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: She was only regent, the laws said, only Queen until Snow White came of age. It was unacceptable after all these years of planning, of waiting, after a marriage to a man who wanted a Queen more than he wanted a wife. No, Grimhilde decided; she would be Queen of this land once and for all.Her Ministers said that her solution was... unorthodox. But not without precedent, she pointed out, in securing the throne, nor against the laws of the land. There was much whispering, much debate, but finally they accepted that her plan was sound. She would marry Snow White.





	Bedright

**Author's Note:**

> From the [Disney Kink Meme](https://disney-kink.dreamwidth.org/2799.html?thread=6184431#cmt6184431) prompt:
> 
> The Evil Queen takes Snow White's virginity with a big ole strap-on.
> 
> I wrapped the thinnest veneer of plot around it, but it's really just porn.
> 
> Aaaaand, so, this isn't actually possible under Medieval Catholic law, but, uh, *handwaves*

She was only regent, the laws said, only Queen until Snow White came of age. It was unacceptable after all these years of planning, of waiting, after a marriage to a man who wanted a Queen more than he wanted a wife. No, Grimhilde decided; she would be Queen of this land once and for all.

Her Ministers said that her solution was... unorthodox. But not without precedent, she pointed out, in securing the throne, nor against the laws of the land. There was much whispering, much debate, but finally they accepted that her plan was sound. She would marry Snow White.

 

 

 

 

 

Snow White looked beautiful on her wedding day, radiant and nervous. She looked exquisite in blue, and her hand shook so much that Grimhilde had to hold it tightly to slip the ring onto her finger. But she watched her stepmother – no, her _wife_ now – so trustingly, and smiled so warmly, that Grimhilde almost wondered why she bothered with the father when the daughter was so much easier to control.

Many of her – their – people had turned out, perhaps from curiosity as much as anything else, but Grimhilde did not much care so long as they were more witnesses to her marriage, and to her succession. True, she would be Queen Consort and not Queen Regnant, but something told her that Snow White would not prove at all hard to steer, and the ministers were more used to her voice than that of the old King's daughter, in any case. And so Grimhilde half-smiled, graciously, to the crowds, and spoke of how good was the wedding feast and how fine the singers and poets, and could not help but find herself more than a little impatient for the matter of the bedding.

That was, of course, the true matter which would secure her throne. A wedding without a bedding was no wedding at all, it was well-known, and doubtless there was some curiosity among those who had been chosen as witnesses as to how exactly such an... unusual union was to be considered consummated. Snow White, of course, was the virgin and the one with whom they would actually be concerned, but it was Grimhilde who had needed to prepare herself upon the matter, and she believed that her plan was really quite sound.

Snow White was escorted to their marital chamber first, and had slipped beneath the covers in only the most delicate of linen chemises. It floated over her skin, moon-pale, one of the presents which Grimhilde had made sure to ply her with in the weeks that led up to the wedding. If Snow White had been uncertain of why her stepmother-now-bride had changed so abruptly in her treatment, she had not shown it. Grimhilde entered shortly afterwards, once their witnesses were settled but before Snow White's nervousness could have grown too strong, her own chemise as fine a quality but with one noticeable difference – the tented fabric at her sex.

She sat down beneath her young bride, and took her hand. “It is all right, my fairest,” she said, soft and sweet. Snow White looked up with enormous dark eyes. Grimhilde could remember what it was like to be a nervous, virgin bride, and pressed a kiss to Snow White's forehead, then to each of her cheeks, and then tilted her chin up to kiss her on the mouth.

Snow White gave the faintest gasp at the lips on hers, but Grimhilde pressed gently on, slipping her tongue between Snow White's lips and guiding her deeper into the kiss. With her other hand, she stroked the girl's leg, gently at first before growing more insistent, running her thumb along the tender line of Snow White's inner thigh and letting her nails brush against the fine fabric.

Despite the mutterings that she could hear behind her, she took her time, tasting Snow White's mouth and coaxing along her tongue. It was only when she felt the softening of Snow White's shoulders, the lessening of the tension in her skin, that Grimhilde even slipped her hand up beneath the girl's chemise and onto the delicate skin. She could feel her own heart beating faster, lust for flesh and power both pooling in her, as she rubbed the girl’s soft thigh, slowly coaxing them to part and cease their nervous trembling.

“Yes,” she breathed, pausing their kisses and planting one gently to the corner of Snow White’s mouth instead. “You are being so good, my fairest, so very good. Such a perfect wife.”

Snow White sighed, and as Grimhilde caught her mouth to kiss her again the girl’s thighs parted fully. Her skin was growing warm beneath Grimhilde’s hands, as rubbing turned almost to massaging, firmer and higher, to the soft strands of hair that were scattered on her uppermost thighs.

With her other hand, Grimhilde took Snow White’s wrist and guided it to the tented fabric in her lap. Snow White gasped at the hard shaft beneath the fine linen, breasts brushing against Grimhilde’s arm, but she recognised more than a little arousal to the sound.

“Would you like to see it?” Grimhilde said, guiding Snow White’s hand to stroke along the length.

Snow White swallowed, breathless. “Yes,” she whispered, so quiet that only Grimhilde could possibly have heard it.

Hiding her smile in another ravishing kiss, tongue delving into Snow White’s mouth, Grimhilde pulled aside the fabric of her chemise to reveal the wooden shaft beneath. It was exquisitely carved, a perfect facsimile of a man’s cock, standing proud of her thighs and shifting in time with her own movements. Of course, it was somewhat on the generous side, and she imagined that no few of the watching men were feeling a little inadequate at the sight of it.

Once again, she bought Snow White’s hand to it, and felt as much as heard the girl’s gasp. A glance down revealed that Snow White’s pale hand could not even wrap fully around the wooden shaft.

There were mutters and surprised sounds from their gathered witnesses as Grimhilde guided Snow White’s hand, stroking along the length of the shaft. Her other hand remained, stroking along Snow White’s thigh, until she could feel the heat of the girl’s cunt and delicate curls brushing against her fingers. There were tiny sounds in Snow White’s throat, more like movements than anything audible, and Grimhilde swallowed them in kisses.

Heat pooled in her own cunt. She could only feel a dull bumping against her skin, where the base of the wooden shaft, set in its leather straps, shifted and nudged with Snow White’s stroking movements, but knowing that it was Snow White’s hand at all was more than enough to make her wet and determined to take the girl.

Finally, she broke their kiss completely, and looked down to find Snow White’s cheeks flushed, her red lips shining and still parted. Snow White looked down worriedly at the shaft, then up to Grimhilde again.

“Will it fit?” she said.

Grimhilde had seen to it that Snow White had been told about the manner in which a man and woman might lie together, or at least enough that she would not be too frightened of what she might encounter in Grimhilde’s bed. All the same, Grimhilde could see the nervousness in her eyes, the way that her teeth dragged over her lower lip.

“Do not worry, my bride,” said Grimhilde, keeping her voice soothing. “I know you will be able. Come, now, lie down for me.”

She assisted Snow White in taking off her chemise, revealing her milk-white skin, softly rounded hips and slight breasts, the pale pink of her nipples. Dark curls nestled between her thighs, shadowed beneath her arms, but it did nothing to mar her beauty. Grimhilde arranged her pale limbs upon the sheets, then removed her own chemise, knowing that despite her years her body was comely still. Snow White’s eyes traced Grimhilde’s form, her fuller breasts, but lingered longest on the strident shaft between her thighs. It was hard to say whether it’s effect might be diminished or intensified when pointing directly to her.

“Do not worry,” Grimhilde continued, as she knelt between Snow White’s parted thighs. Snow White’s leg trembled slightly, but when Grimhilde’s fingers stroked higher they found wetness already waiting. “You will be fine, my fair, fair bride.”

Snow White’s lips parted, a perfect wet circle of pleasure, as Grimhilde ran her fingers over her slit. It was a ghost of a sound, little more than a tremble of breath, then became a slight moan as Grimhilde moved her wet fingers to Snow White’s waiting clit. It was already hard, the body’s reaction unmistakeable for all that her eyes might have been less certain, and Grimhilde prepared her with knowledgeable little strokes.

She was glad, at least, that she had gained _some_ knowledge from two rather regrettable marriages. In both cases, her husband might have liked her pretty face but did not much care for her body, and apart from a few perfunctory unions there had not been much meeting of their flesh to speak of. Aside from the occasional time when she had been able to avail herself of a willing servant or two, there had been only her hand for comfort, or wooden shafts not dissimilar to the one currently upon her form. It had left her with far more skill in pleasing the female form than the male, but at least that would serve her well here.

With her other hand, she teased and plucked at Snow White’s nipples, until they were hard and swollen instead of soft and flat. The pink seemed a little stronger, at least to her eyes, and Snow White grew increasingly breathless, her slit increasingly wet and flushed, moisture beading on those pretty ebony curls.

“Now,” said Grimhilde, arranging her hips above Snow White’s, “do not fear, my bride.” She liked the way that it rolled off her tongue. She knew that Snow White would not have the boldness to return it, or at least not with the edge of possessiveness that Grimhilde could taste on her own lips.

She guided the head of the wooden cock to the lips of Snow White’s cunt, gently parting them to rub against the virgin entrance there. Snow White gasped, then gasped again, louder, as Grimhilde nudged the broad cockhead against her.

The slickness of Snow White’s cunt glistened on the dark wood of the shaft. Grimhilde had taken great pleasure in proscribing every detail of it, each vein that snaked over its surface, the bulge of the head. Now she took even more in rocking it against Snow White’s entrance, feeling the slow stretch and give of her skin.

“Ah!” Snow White’s cry turned into a keen as finally Grimhilde broached the head within her. She gently pumped the head, and that alone, in and out, and Snow White put a hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds that came from her, a mixture of pain and pleasure to Grimhilde’s knowing ear.

“Very good,” Grimhilde said, over the muted sounds that Snow White made. “Oh yes, yes, that is it. Well done, my bride.”

Snow White whimpered, breasts quivering and nipples still hard as Grimhilde slowly bought more into her. Grimhilde looked down to watch as the shaft parted her, Snow White’s skin stretched tight about it, her hips pushed open to accommodate Grimhilde’s hips and the thick press of the wooden cock. She could not feel the tightness of Snow White’s virgin passage, not with the slickness around the cock, the shining on the wood. But she could hear Snow White’s breathless whimpering, see the heaving of her breasts as she gasped for breath, watch the way that her white, white teeth sank into her red, red lip as the pain and pleasure twisted together inside her.

“It’s so big,” Snow White gasped.

Without moving her head, Grimhilde allowed her eyes to flick around the room, to the witnesses about them. Some were shifting, not quite able to meet her eyes, and she wondered whether it was arousal or trepidation that made them do so. But she could feel the tension in the air, the breathless heat that seemed to caress her very skin, the knowledge that their eyes and their minds both were fixed upon her as she claimed the pretty girl whose legs were spread for her.

“You can do it,” she said, soothing, encouraging. She rocked her hips, each thrust a fraction deeper than the last, and the throbbing wet heat in her cunt only grew as Snow White gasped and whimpered with each touch, her thighs trembling as Grimhilde pressed deeper. “Come now, my bride, my lovely bride.” All hers; no man would ever touch this skin, none would come closer than the witnesses were now with their jealous eyes and surely their twitching cocks. She wondered how many would spend to thoughts of this later that night, in wives or mistresses or their own hands, but was sure that none would find a vessel so beautiful as the one which she now plundered.

A keening sound broke from Snow White’s lips, but it was edged with pleasure, and her nipples were still painfully hard. The wood shone with her, wet and glistening, and Grimhilde could feel it on her thighs as Snow White _writhed_ beneath her. Barely half of the cock was inside her still, but already she panted and moaned, clit hard and proud of its hood.

Grimhilde reached down with one hand to rub at that proffered clit, and Snow White cried out. The shamelessness of it made Grimhilde smile, feral and lustful, as Snow White cast one hand to the pillows about her head but with the other splayed her fingers over her stomach, as if she could feel Grimhilde reaching all the way within her.

“Oh yes, _yes,_ please,” said Snow White, and never were there prettier words. Grimhilde rubbed at her clit and slid the cock still deeper into her, and the words broke apart into sweet encouraging sounds, and Grimhilde fancied that she heard one of the witnesses make a strangled noise of their own.

Snow White came before Grimhilde had even fully taken her, crying out and shuddering around Grimhilde’s fingers, giving way to keening over-sensitive panting. Grimhilde almost fancied she could feel the clenching of the girl’s cunt around the wooden shaft, in the way that it shifted against her own sex, the way that Snow White’s hips now arced up towards her. Her eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back to expose the perfect white line of her throat, and Grimhilde considered for a moment leaving black-purple bruises there to remind the world of who Snow White truly belonged to. But there would be no need, perhaps, as the girl reached up with the hand from her stomach to paw at Grimhilde’s breast, artless and clumsy but so _desperate_.

“Almost there,” Grimhilde purred, and true enough there was only a little over an inch of the wooden cock still visible between their cunts.

Snow White _whined_ , pleading, and her thighs tried to tighten at Grimhilde’s hips. Grimhilde shifted her weight forwards, from almost seated to above Snow White, and bowed her head to claim those plush red lips in another kiss. She could almost _taste_ Snow White’s arousal, feel it in her sloppy kisses and the way she yearned upwards into Grimhilde’s mouth, in the little whimpers that slipped from her.

With a groan, Grimhilde finally felt her hips settle flush to Snow White’s, hot skin damp with sweat and arousal, and in truth she had not been sure that Snow White would even be able to take the whole of the wooden shaft. But Snow White was gasping and making those delicious sounds, and the only clear word among them was _please_ , and Grimhilde was hardly going to deprive her new bride of such delights on their wedding night of all nights.

“How does that feel?” she said, aware again of the eyes around them. It was clear enough, in Snow White’s moans and twitches, the hard nubs of her nipples and her hips rocking minutely against Grimhilde’s. But she wanted to _hear_ it, and to know as well that the men and women watching would hear it as well, what words sweet virginal Snow White might find to describe the pleasure filling her.

“It is… so large,” Snow White gasped out, surprise still evident in her tone. “I never thought – ah!”

Perhaps it was a sort of wickedness, Grimhilde supposed, to choose that very moment to thrust again. But Snow White cried out so prettily, and the jolt of her slight breasts at the yelp she released went straight down Grimhilde’s spine.

She ran one hand down Snow White’s ribs, her hip, feeling the silkiness of the skin of her pretty virgin bride, virgin no more. A fruit plucked just at its sweetest, and never to be tasted by another.

“I can feel so much of you,” said Snow White. It was so quiet that the witnesses might not have heard it, and made the lust burn hotter in Grimhilde’s cunt.

She bent down, to better put her mouth to Snow White’s ear. “I want you to feel me,” she replied. “In every moment of every day, my wife, I want you to know this feeling of having me inside you.”

Snow White _moaned_ , a more guttural sound even than before, as her hips shifted up against Grimhilde’s thighs. Grimhilde’s hand brushed over her skin, the plane of her stomach, then lingered there for a moment as she drew back and thrust again, more of the cock at once this time.

 _There_. Grimhilde gasped herself as she felt the shift of Snow White’s stomach at the thrust of her cock, the wood stretching out Snow White’s virgin passage until it shifted her very skin, changed the very shape of her. Her thighs trembled, but she drew back, further still, and thrust once more to be sure that she could feel it against her hands. Snow White cried out in pleasure at the intrusion, at the _claiming_ of it all, and Grimhilde felt her clit hot and hard and wetness running down her skin from how much she has taken of the girl.

But, “ _Please_ ,” Snow White said again, voice cracking and softening and sweetly musical all at once, and who was Grimhilde to deny her? “More!”

Grimhilde obliged, in firm thrusts of her hips, bracing her hands on the soft linen sheets and clenching her fingers into them as she wished she could clench them around Snow White’s alabaster skin. But later, later, she could leave bruises where none would see them, could see how beautiful they would look on the flawless canvas just waiting to be marked. But for now she claimed her bedright and her bride, and Snow White gasped and asked for more so prettily, so perfectly, and hot delight pooled in her cunt and sparked in her brain.

The air was thick with the smell of sex and the sound of flesh slapping on flesh. Snow White’s virgin whimpers have become a whore’s moans, and somehow that is all the better to hear, to know that in so short a time a simple piece of wood so wielded can draw something so primal from the girl. With a groan, Snow White wrapped her hands around Grimhilde’s arms as if she were bracing herself, and panted in staccato counterpoint to the wet smack of flesh, and Grimhilde could feel sweat tickling on her back and her legs but did not care as she fucked her stepdaughter, her bride.

The second time that Snow White came, it was with an almost surprised cry, as she bucked against the bed with the force of Grimhilde’s fucking. She came so hard that tears sparkled on her eyelashes and she began to quiver, every bit the virgin bride again; it was that, the tremble of her lip, the way that the grip of her hands became just a little more desperate but that her hips remained so open and spread for her, that finally drove Grimhilde to her own climax. She pressed deep into Snow White, as if she truly were spending her seed in the girl, ground her clit against the wooden base of the shaft and saw stars behind her eyes as the pleasure rushed through her.

All the years of planning, the waiting, and Snow White would be so much more _pliable_ than her father had ever had been. And more _pleasurable_ too, so much more pleasurable, so sweetly willing and now so willingly debauched beneath her.

She fell still, panting as well, still with the shaft buried deep and Snow White’s thighs around hers. For a moment, Grimhilde closed her eyes, feeling the rush of pleasure still ebbing and flowing like waves, hearing her own heartbeat pounding in her chest. Then she became aware of gentle fingers brushing her temple, and looked down again to see Snow White, brow glittering with sweat and lips bitten-red but still so fair, so beautiful, looking up almost shyly as she tucked back a stray lock of Grimhilde’s hair.

“Thank you,” Snow White breathed, just for her despite the eyes still around them, “my wife.”

And Grimhilde smiled a lion’s smile, and knew she had beneath her hands the best of prizes, not just a willing kingdom but a willing Queen to rule it through. And so it was, she imagined, that truly happy endings came to pass.


End file.
